


Fate Has Decided (We Don't Know a Thing)

by ineedataco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AU-timers, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Fate, M/M, Minor Character Death, Soulmate-Identifying Timers, Tags will be updated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-11-19
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1702919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineedataco/pseuds/ineedataco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The clocks were a reminder that fate is as random as it is set. An AU with timers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

School, after all this time, is still the worst thing that had ever happened to Stiles. With every passing year, it seems harder for him to wake up and not consider sleeping in just a bit more for the sake of his sanity. Especially today.

The first day of school is hard on everyone, what with having to deal with the whole wake-up-early-at-the-ass-crack-of-dawn-to-deal-with-shit-they-hate thing.

Not to mention the fact that even more people would come in today without their timers, showing off their findings. Not that most of them would even be that useful for them.

The timers had been a relatively new thing back a few generations ago. They had suddenly appeared on the wrists of each newborn child, counting down to zero, second after second. They had caused quite the stir when they first showed up, parents screaming and demanding answers for the sudden developments on their children. Scientists had studied the children for months, trying to discern the meaning behind the numbers. Theories bounced back and forth for the longest time, from countdowns to death all the way to soulmate meetings.

Of course, that had been years ago. Nowadays, the clocks are seen in a whole new light. After failing to figure out what their meaning was, the scientists decided to wait out the process of a clock running out of time.

They eventually reached the conclusion that the timers were different for each person. Once they ran out of time, the bearer would find something. Nothing specific, per say, just something for the person to make use of.

Some people would find themselves with a new set of car keys while others would find themselves lost as their time ran out. Every person was different, and it was impossible to predict what a person’s timer would come to find.

Stiles’s dad, the sheriff, was lucky enough to have found the love of his life in Claudia would-be-Stilinski. He grew up hearing stories of the first time they had met, how the sheriff hadn’t even known that his clock had stopped until he had glanced down at it when the two of them had sat down for a cup of coffee.

The sheriff, who had been a student at the local college at the time, had entered the coffee shop in the hopes of finding a cure for his ‘I-just-pulled-an-all-nighter’ tiredness. He had turned around from the counter after collecting his purchase when he had bumped into a lady and spilled his coffee all over her.

Needless to say, they lived a happily clichéd life together.

His mother’s timer had run down years before they had even met, when she had opened up the mail to find the acceptance letter to the college she had so desperately wanted to go.

That whole thing was probably the catalyst for the meeting between Stiles’ parents. If her timer hadn’t timed out at the opening of the letter, she probably never would have met her husband, and Stiles would not have been born.

As a child, Stiles had hoped that his watch would lead to someone like that. After all, the timers sometimes tended to run down to similar fates within families.

But all that was in the past. His clock had run its course, and he was left with zeroes imprinted on his wrist.

He now spends his days dreading the coming of the first day of school, hoping that he could somehow conjure up the ability tofreeze time long enough to get a few more hours of sleep.

“Stiles, wake up.”

His dad, then. Of course he pick today of all days to pick up a later shift somehow just to make sure Stiles got to school on time. Of course.

The sheriff had made a point of staying to wake Stiles on select days: the first day of school, and other certain holidays. It was a good idea, really, but most of the time, he really just wanted to be able to enjoy the comfort of his bed for just a few more minutes (hours).

“Hmm, how about no,” Stiles groaned as he threw his pillow over his head to shield his ears from the onslaught of noise.

The sheriff rolls his eyes and simply moves to rip the blanket straight off Stiles’ body. Immediately after that he recoils and covers his eyes. “Jesus, Stiles. Are you serious? I thought you stopped sleeping naked after the whole incident with Scott.”

“Yeah, but I was too lazy to change last night. Plus, I totally got you.” The glare that gets sent towards Stiles causes him to shrink back into his bed. “Okay, fine. Sorry.”

“Damn right, son. Now get ready, you’re gonna be late of you keep that up.” With that, the sheriff turns away to wait for Stiles to get ready.

 

School is exactly how Stiles pictured it would be. People who’ve found the purpose of their timers have already started bragging about their finds to anyone who will listen, showing off whatever it is if they can bring it with them, or describing it in vivid detail. In the halls, he hears someone talking about how they had found an art piece, which was supposed to be sold for an outrageous sum of money, but got it practically for free since it was apparently what their timer had said they would find. Another talks animatedly with his friends that he had found his fake ID that he had lost months ago.

That kid is probably the best he’s heard in a while. At least his would help him get drunk. What would a person need a painting for in the first place?

The fact that the timers had led the students to things that didn’t seem very important wasn’t a big deal, seeing as how they were so common and their purpose wasn’t known. All anyone got was that the timers would let them find something, whether it be lost or seen for the first time. Sometimes a person could find a stash of treasure, other times they could find something they had forgotten to put on the shopping list that they happened to pass by.

“Hey, Stiles! Wait up!” a voice yells as he takes his time, trudging along the path to his first class. Upon hearing Scott’s voice, Stiles immediately perks up and turns around to face him.

“Dude, it’s been so long!” That was a lie. They had seen each other less than a week before when they went out for a day. The only reason they hadn’t seen each other before school had been because of emergency summer homework they spent all summer ignoring, like every student did.

They bro-fist, because they can, and end up talking about the new year ahead.  They’re both going to try out for lacrosse, even though they both know they don’t have a chance in hell of making fist string, if they even make it in the first place. They also both have Harris, who everyone knows is an asshole. Stiles offers to look over Scott’s homework, because he doesn’t even have to guess that Scott bullshitted it. Hell, he even did it himself for a few questions.

This year is going to go fine.

“Move it, loser,” is all he hears before he’s unceremoniously pushed out of the way by Jackson, douche of the century. Their mutual hatred of each other had existed since the dawn of time, and if his clock hadn’t just recently stopped when he first met him, he would have whooped his ass so hard. As it was, he had the misfortune to meet him right about the time when he had been the most vulnerable. Stiles first made contact with him during his grieving period after his mom's death, and he had to face the fact that some people just wouldn't care if he had just lost the one person in his life who supported Stiles' decisions.

“I would, but your gigantic head would still be in the way.” As usual, he’s ignored. “Ass.”

“Dude, don’t let him get to you. He’s probably just jealous of your extra—you know.”

Stiles frowns and pulls his left sleeve over his wrist, not wanting to think about the memories associated with them.

Yeah, that’s right. Them.

Stiles has two timers. He hates them, no, _loathes_ them.

When people first learned about it, he became an anomaly among his peers, seeing as the majority of the population of the world had only one ticking mechanism. Apparently, less than one percent of the world ended up with more than one.

Stiles, being the child he was at the time, preened under all the attention he got. His countdown was his best feature, and he made sure everyone knew about it. He’d make a big deal of it, always sure to somehow show off his wrists where the two of them were located. He bragged and boasted of them, garnering the attention of most, and the jealousy of others. Namely, one Jackson Whittemore.

He had loved that fact about himself, had cherished it for its uniqueness.

Every day, Stiles wishes that he didn’t share that fact about himself.

\--

At the age of ten, his mother was diagnosed with a disease. The doctors said there was no cure.

Stiles wanted to prove them wrong. His mom couldn’t die on him.

At ten years of age, young Stiles, for the first time, found that his timer on his left wrist was counting down at a much shorter time than his right wrist. There was just above a year left on his left. He took it as an opportunity to pray to every higher being he could think of, _please heal my mom, please heal her, don’t let her die_. He believed that the day his countdown reached zero was the day his mom would be healed. He would find out that his mother had pulled through.

He couldn’t have been more wrong.

-

_Please work, please work, Stiles thought as he sat at his mother’s bedside._

_This was the last day of his left wrist. In fact, there were only minutes left before it ran out._

_“Stiles, look at me,” his mom said. “Your timer’s going to reach zero soon. You’re going to find your first.” Her breathing was labored, she coughed horribly and Stiles could barely hear her from where he sat, so he leaned closer. “I’m so happy for you. I get to be there when my son finds his first. I’m so proud of you, you know? You’ve always been a good boy.” She stroked feebly at his face with her hand, which Stiles took in his own. “I love you, you know?”_

_“I know mom, I know. I love you, too.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he says this._

_“Let’s wait out this this timer together, alright? No talking.” Stiles nodded._

_They stayed like that, her right hand in his left, watching the timer slowly count down. They were silent, and Stiles spent his time trying to calm the pounding in his head, silently praying for the timer to go faster, for the doctor to get there faster to tell the two of them of the new operation to get rid of his mother’s sickness._

_One minute…_

_Stiles prayed, tried to control his breathing. His head pounded, anticipation built up until he felt like he was going to blow up._

_Thirty seconds…_

_He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t wait for the doctor any longer. He needed to have the news now._

_He was so distracted he didn’t notice his mom trying to speak to him_

_Five seconds…_

_He felt the grip on his hand tighten for a second, but didn’t register it until a few seconds later. His head was too fuzzy, too busy to notice at first._

_The boy turned to face his left wrist, the one entangled with his mother’s. One second left._

_His gaze lifted to his mother’s eyes, at the exact moment the heart beat monitor signaled a flatline._

00:00:00:00

-

He hasn’t looked at his wrist ever since then. He resented his timers with all his being, refusing to fall in line with whatever they had in store for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. I lost track of where this chapter was headed and so yeah... I promise I'll be updating more often now, though.  
> Un-beta'd, so if you want to, please leave a comment or something
> 
> *edit* I didn't post the whole of the chapter, so now this should make more sense

The year goes exactly how Stiles thought it would go: easy and predictable in every way.

 

It’s so easy that Stiles takes to listening to police radio to listen to what his father has to go to. It’s so easy that he manages to hear the announcement of a dead body found in the woods. Only half of one, apparently. It’s so easy that he decides to call Scott in to explore the forest at night.

 

From that point on, it’s not that easy.

 

\--

 

 

“Scott, I swear to God, if my timer runs out looking for your stupid fucking inhaler, I’m gonna kill someone. And don’t look at me like that, you know you’re way too easy to read.” Stiles may have made the decision not to look at the timer anymore, but Scott has been looking at Him recently in a way that reminds him of how people would stare at him with pity in their eyes right after his mother died. He can tell what that means even without having to look. His second timer is about to go off.

 

 

It’s not that Stiles doesn’t want to help his friend—hell, he’d be glad if the timer went off about now—it’s just that he doesn’t want another repeat of the first time. He couldn’t deal with it if something bad was to happen, especially to Scott.

 

Sometimes, he’ll get glance of it in passing, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. Not looking at it is like trying to ignore the existence of his whole arm. Sometimes he’d have to look at it, especially when it came time to change in the locker room or when he showers. He never looked long enough to have any definite idea of how much time was left, but he definitely knows that the timer has some empty spots in it where it shows zeroes where there used to be a number of years and months.

 

“Maybe it won’t. Maybe you’ll end up finding something else. Or it could mean you’re meant to be my best friend,” Scott says while searching around for his inhaler. Stiles decides to help him in his search by bending over and pushing around dirt and leaves for it. While doing so, his sleeve pulls up over his wrist and he catches a glimpse of the clock on his arm. Just a few seconds left.

 

“Just because I’m a Hufflepuff doesn’t necessarily mean I’m that great of a finder,” Stiles quips, unable to tear his eyes off of the timer. He had less time than he thought. “Besides, if anything it probably means that- “He’s cut off as he notices his timer reaching its final seconds. Out of instinct, he pushes his gaze upwards.

 

His eyes land on the face of a man wearing a leather jacket.

 

00:00:00:00

 

\----

 

_“Dad, it’s my fault! She died because of me. She died because of my timer, because it-“_

_“No it’s not, Stiles! You listen to me son, whatever your timer says, it was not your fault, you hear me?” Stiles is cut off by his father’s arms wrapping around him, tears running down the faces of both men, like never before._

 

_“But-“_

_“But nothing. Trust me when I say that your timer had nothing to do with her death. None of it was your fault,” the father comforted his son, holding him to his chest. “She loved you, and I love you. Nothing will ever change that.”_

_\---_

The whole werewolf thing managed to derail Stiles enough that his grades actually slipped a bit. It was understandable, as fighting for his life obviously took priority over school, and he could hardly tell his teachers that a werewolf was going around and eating all the people responsible for a fire that happened a decade ago.

It’s not as if the slight curve in his grades mattered much, anyways. He’s still one of the top students in his class. College just had to take a backseat for a while. Staying alive took priority at this point and researching something he had interest in was a welcome challenge. Seriously, the teachers could have given a much more interesting topic in his classes than some vague instructions on an essay about parallels or some shit.

 

Werewolves, on the other hand. That was fun. And more immediately applicable.

 

Which is why, when everything blows over and the alpha has been killed, Stiles finds himself coming back to Derek. Or rather, he finds himself face to face with the man after he has broken in via the window. Again.

 

“So, you come here often?” is what comes out of Stiles’ mouth. Probably not the best line to open with, but it could have been much worse, considering the thoughts that he usually finds himself thinking in the presence of unfair masculinity.

 

Derek tenses, and for a second Stiles thinks that he’s about to get punched and flinches. Instead, Derek just raises his mystical-magical disappearing eyebrows and rolls his eyes. “Stiles,” he grunts, because of course Derek can’t make decent conversation even with his recent ascent into alphahood.

 

There’s a twist in Stiles’ gut as he looks carefully at Derek, searching for any sign of hurt or pain, whether physical or emotional.

 

He turns around before Derek can think about how long he’s been staring. “You know you can come through the door like a normal person. My dad isn’t even home right now. Unless, you know, you get off on scaring high schoolers. You can actually get arrested for that too. It’s called harassment. Probably a stalking charge as well.” At this point, Stiles just wants to get Derek out of his room.

 

Ever since his first encounter with him in the woods, he’s done his best to avoid contact, though his efforts had been in vain. He doesn’t want another repeat of his mother. One death was enough for him.

 

“Why are you avoiding me, Stiles?” Fuck. Of course Derek would skip right to what Stiles had been trying so hard to hide.

 

“No reason. Why? What would possibly make you think that I’m purposely ignoring you?”

 

“I can hear you heartbeat, you know. Stop trying to deflect.”

Stiles lets out a sigh, exasperated. “Look, dude, I know all about that hearing bullshit. Who do you think helped Scott find out about the extent of his wolfy powers? It sure wasn’t you now, was it.” At this, Derek growls at him, deep in his throat. Stiles continues on. “I have a private life too. Can’t I just, like, deal with my own shit my own way?”

 

He turns around, ready to face an angry alpha wolf, but is only met with a cold breeze and his window, wide open.

 

Stiles huffs, and proceeds to fall back on his bed. He doesn’t want to think about how his mother died when his timer went off. He doesn’t want to think about how worried he is for Derek, how he might die now that he’s met Stiles. He doesn’t want to think about how if Derek dies, Stiles might too, because the wolf is starting to grow on him, no matter how annoying or territorial he might get at times.

 

He really does not want to think about the feelings brewing below the surface. Those aren’t what he needs to deal with at this point.

 

Truth be told, Stiles still blames himself for the death of his mother, no matter what his father says to the contrary. His timer is a mess, and every day he has to look at it is another day he feels like a bomb, ticking away slowly, waiting for everyone around him to die. Guilt has made it too hard for him to let go of his mother.

 

With a sigh, Stiles gets off the bed. His personal stuff can pull itself together some other time.

 

“Hey dad, do you think that I can get something set up with that therapist again?” he yells as he rushes down the stairs toward the kitchen to prepare dinner. He’s planning on making yet another healthy meal, deciding that he would try to put a little something extra in it just for his dad. There’s nothing like a cheat day, after all.

 

His father steps into the kitchen after a bit, concern showing on his face. “Sure, son. But why do you need this now? It’s not related to, um, that thing, right?” Sadness clouds his face, and that added to the fact that Stiles’ position is exactly like his mother’s is too much for Stiles. It’s clear that his father still isn’t completely up to talking about his wife so openly.

 

“Uh, no? Well, not related, exactly, it’s just, I need to bounce a few ideas back at someone real quickly.” It’s not a complete lie, but concealing the truth is definitely still on the menu.

 

“You know you say whatever you want to me, right? I’m your father; this is what I’m supposed to do.” The sheriff looks pained that his son is hiding things from him, and Stiles’ heart breaks.

 

“It’s not exactly something that I want so share dad, not at least until I’m ready.”

 

“Fine. Just—know that I’m here for you, okay?”

 

“Yeah, definitely. Love you dad!” Stiles calls, even as his father slowly makes his way out of the kitchen again with his phone in hand, already dialing the number. His dad is the best.

 

He busies himself around the kitchen, haphazardly preparing the meal for himself and his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my cousins's came over for the summer, and I didn't have time to update. Then school happened (ugh) and I lost touch with this story a bit. It won't happen again, I promise


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